


Those Damn Sweetrolls

by Elenwen18



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Chubby Cicero, CiceroxListener, F/M, Sweetroll Consumption, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-19 00:26:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14863155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elenwen18/pseuds/Elenwen18
Summary: "Cicero is hungry. Need a sweetroll...or a carrot."The Listener would be cruel not to give him a few of the treats here and there...right? Perhaps she should've gone with the carrots instead.





	Those Damn Sweetrolls

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly I'm surprised this kind of thing hasn't been done yet, what with Cicero's almost constant mention of sweetrolls when you employ him as a follower. At least I'm pretty sure it hasn't been done. I've scoured the deep web for a fic that would be similar and didn't find anything so...I'm gonna assume it's never been done. Anyway, hope you all enjoy!

Rhea worked tirelessly to assure the Dark Brotherhood remained a household name in Skyrim. Being the newly appointed listener after nearly twenty years of the position's absence, she had to. There really wasn't much choice in the matter. Almost three years had passed since their motley crew moved to the Dawnstar Sanctuary, three years since the assassination of the Emperor of Tamriel, and three years since the deaths of Astrid, Arnbjorn, Festus Krex, Veezara, and Gabriella. Rhea didn't really miss Astrid, since it was her fault the Falkreath Sanctuary was breached (not to mention it was the Nord woman who had put a price on the Listener's head), but she did very much miss the rest of them. In the short time she knew them, they had become her family, and she loved her family.

Of course, she still had Nazir, the Redguard, Babette, the unchild, some new initiates, and then him…

Cicero.

The Keeper took his job very seriously, as was to be expected. Even though he wasn’t right in the head, he still made sure that the Night Mother was never left unattended for too long. In truth, she smelled wonderful when you walked passed her. Not how you would expect a rotten corpse to smell. The oils that Cicero anointed her with really did wonders to improve the overall stench of the dank cave they called home, too. 

According to the jester himself, he had stopped going out on contracts years ago due to his position as Keeper, which in turn made him antsy and eventually, crazy. Despite not getting much in the way of physical activity, the Keeper somehow managed to maintain a very lean and even somewhat muscled physique. That is, until he started accompanying Rhea on some of her contracts. 

“Cicero is hungry. Need a sweetroll…or a carrot,” he would often say absentmindedly as the two of them traversed the frigid realm of Skyrim. Rhea, wanting to indulge the Keeper as much as she could, would always find a few of the desserts to steal for him. She knew he didn’t get out much anymore, and she felt quite awful about that. She figured it would be a nice way to treat him once in a while. 

Soon enough, however, “once in a while” became nearly every time they were out together, and Cicero’s excessive sweetroll consumption had begun to make itself known on the jester’s body. 

At first it was a slight change. His figure had filled out just a bit more, and due to his loose jester attire, the extra pounds couldn’t really be seen if you weren’t looking at him from the right angle. Rhea herself hadn’t noticed his weight gain until a while later, when his belly started to get much rounder. 

The weight didn’t really gather anywhere else on him, just around his midsection. He wasn’t in need of new pants, but the belt around his waist was now just barely hanging on. His shirt gapped slightly in the front, exposing the fleshy skin of his bloated gut. His belly jiggled whenever he laughed (which was quite often) and sweat would drip from his brow after walking just a short distance. Rhea stopped taking him along on contracts with her when she started to realize he was putting on a significant amount of weight. She found that she needed to stop every few minutes so Cicero could simply catch his breath. She didn’t want him slowing her down. More importantly, she wanted to protect his feelings. If any of the townsfolk saw him like this, they would likely poke fun and demean him. Rhea would never admit this to anyone back at the Sanctuary, but she had very fond feelings for Cicero. Feelings that she was sure bordered on love. 

Cicero was of course upset that Rhea didn’t want him to accompany her anymore, but he said he understood. Rhea wasn’t sure he knew the reason, though. In fact, she wasn’t even sure he’d noticed how big he’d gotten. If he did notice, he didn’t seem to care entirely too much. 

Rhea made a point to tell Nazir, Babette, and the others not to say anything about his weight gain. They agreed, though Nazir expressed that it would be quite difficult for him. He loved to talk trash about the jester behind his back.

“I want to talk about this with him alone,” she said. “After all, it’s mostly my fault he gained this much weight. I fed him all those damn sweetrolls.” She hated the way that sounded. It was almost as though she had been treating him like a pet and not a person. 

“Well, you know I won’t say anything,” Babette assured. “I don’t really talk to the fool much as is.” The other three initiates nodded in agreement.   
Rhea thanked them, then went to find Cicero.

The jester was standing next to the Night Mother’s coffin, examining a vial of something he had in his hands. His face lit up when Rhea entered the room. “Listener!” he exclaimed. “Have you come to help oil Mother? If so, Cicero is most reluctant to tell Listener that that is his job.”

A brief look of disgust crossed Rhea’s face. She loved the Night Mother, but she never wanted to touch her again. “No, no, that’s not why I’m here.” Her eyes trailed down to Cicero’s middle, as big and bulbous as ever. “Cicero, I need to talk to you.”

“Cicero knows you’re staring, Listener,” the Keeper said with a small smile. “Perhaps the Listener should find an artist to paint a portrait of Cicero for her?” 

Cicero’s sarcasm was like a sharp dagger to Rhea’s heart, causing her to fidget slightly. He knew. “So…you know, then?” she said, speaking the words in her mind.

Cicero chuckled and put the vial down on a nearby shelf. “Of course Cicero knows. Cicero knew from the very beginning that if he ate too many of the sweetrolls Listener fed him he would become fat.” Cicero patted his stomach and giggled. “Truly, the Listener has spoiled poor Cicero. He feels like a fattened calf ready for slaughter.”

Rhea was confused. He couldn’t have actually been happy with the way he looked now, could he? “But all that extra weight makes it hard for you to get around like you used to. Surely you want to get rid of it, right?”

Cicero’s eyes lost their joyful look. “Does Listener want Cicero to lose the weight?”

Rhea took the jester’s hand and looked him in the eyes. “Don’t you want to?”

Cicero mirrored her movements. “Cicero will do anything if it is the Listener’s wish. That is why he ate the sweetrolls. He only wanted to please the Listener.”

Rhea’s stomach twisted into a knot. She really had done this to him. “Cicero, you don’t need to do everything I say.”

Cicero’s hand gripped hers even tighter. “Oh, but of course Cicero does! Cicero is the Keeper and therefore must serve the Listener always, in all things!”

“Oh, Cicero,” Rhea said pitifully, reaching up to his face and grazing his cheek with the back of her hand. “My dear Keeper, you are obedient to a fault. That is why the Night Mother and our Dread Father appreciate you so.” Rhea noticed how Cicero’s eyes lit up at her words. “But you must also look after yourself.” She poked his stomach lightly. “This will make it difficult for you to flee from an enemy should the need arise and will likely end up sending you to an early grave.”

“And the Listener does not want that,” Cicero finished, also glancing down at his round, protruding gut. He took note of the fact he could no longer see his own feet. “Cicero supposes it is getting a bit more difficult to oil Mother in the hard to reach places. He can’t bend down like he used to,” the jester chuckled. When he noticed Rhea did not seem amused, he wiped the grin off his face. “Cicero does have to wonder why the Listener gave him so many sweetrolls in the first place?”

Rhea blanched. “I just thought you deserved a treat for everything you do. Guess I got a bit carried away.”

Cicero hummed softly and nodded. “Cicero was thinking it was because the Listener was displeased with the way he looked.” He took back the hand she still held and clasped it with his other. “Cicero was worried you didn’t like the way his clothes hung on his body, so you wanted him to fill them out a little more.”

To say the Listener was startled by his conclusion was an understatement. She didn’t want him to be heavier, did she? No, no of course she didn’t, “Cicero, I was never unhappy with the way you looked,” she said. “I think you’re…” She couldn’t believe she was about to spill her feelings for the jester. “I think you’re wonderful, and…perfect. No matter what your outward appearance might be.”

Cicero’s cheeks turned red as he stared at Rhea. “Is the Listener saying she cares for Cicero…as more than just the Keeper?”

Rhea smiled at him and broke into a giggle, turning as red as the accents on her Dark Brotherhood attire. “Yes. That’s what I’m saying.” Much to her surprise, Cicero pulled her into a tight hug. Her head rested comfortably on the top of his stomach. “I love you, Cicero,” she said softly. 

Cicero hummed into her neck. “And Cicero loves the Listener.”

They embraced for several more seconds, then pulled away slowly. “So,” Rhea began. “What are we going to do about,” she looked down at his middle once more, “that?”

“Cicero will do all that he can to get rid of it,” he assured, pulling her into another hug. It was at that exact moment his stomach growled. “Cicero is hungry.”

Rhea stepped back slightly, her arms still around his neck. “How about a carrot?”


End file.
